The Only Reason
by Choice Creations
Summary: This is what I imagine takes place just before the scene in "Sexy" - Season 2, Ep. 15 - when Brittany confronts Santana about their not talking about their feelings especially since they've just been intimate and have been for quite some time.
1. Chapter 1

This is what I imagine takes place just before the scene in "Sexy" - Season 2, Ep. 15 - when Brittany confronts Santana about their not talking about their feelings especially since they've just been intimate and have been for quite some time.

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><p>Exhausted after a long day at school that was ripe with misunderstandings about baby-making, a racy lesson about sex, and unnecessary Faberry drama, they tiredly step into the front door of Santana's home laden with schoolwork.<p>

"Do you want something to eat?" Santana asks Brittany.

"No," Brittany responds. "I ate yesterday."

"Then I'll bring up something to drink."

As Brittany makes her way up the steps to Santana's bedroom, she hollers, "Make mine a Dr. Pepper."

"You know it," Santana yells back on her way to the kitchen.

In Santana's room, as Brittany puts her schoolbag down, something catches her eye. She walks over to Santana's dresser where she notices pictures of them. There's a standard school-issued group picture of them on the Cheerios; there's another with just the two of them in uniform, sitting side-by-side, cheezily smiling, and holding their pom-poms; then there's another, where Santana has her hand around Brittany's shoulder and Santana is planting a big kiss on her cheek.

That's what draws Brittany's attention. Being a Cheerio feels like another time in her life, even though it has only been a few weeks since she saved her life from an explosive ending and quit the team permanently for The New Directions. The thought of being a Cheerio now fits as poorly and as uncomfortably on Brittany as her uniform did. Yes, she misses the attention and the popularity but she also likes not being tortured by Coach Sylvester's acrid words and her grueling boot camp for pretty girls which Coach lovingly called "practice". Brittany also likes wearing whatever she wants because that uniform was starting to give her jock-itch. But of all that has changed since she left the Cheerios and of all that she has lost, Santana has always been there.

Brittany's heart skips a beat. _I think I …_

"Love leaving that place," Santana bursts through her bedroom door with two sodas in hand. "I can't wait to get the hell out of there some days. Today more than most. I wish Rachel's neck was fully rotatable because every time I see her I want to turn her face right around to the back of her head like a doll. She's like a nightmare I can't wake up from."

Santana places the glasses on a night stand.

"I was looking, uh, looking around for the 'Sweet Valley High' DVD and couldn't find it," Brittany lies.

"Uh Brittany? There's no video. I only say that to get you over here."

"Again?" Brittany exclaims in disbelief.

"It works every time," Santana says shrugging her shoulders.

"I see," Brittany says. "The old 'mate and switch' trick."

"Ya, something like that. 'Mate' being the key word," Santana says. "Come here."

Santana takes Brittany's hand and leads her to lie down on her bed beside her. They face each other, leaning on their fists to hold their heads up.

Santana says, "I'm glad we figured out that you weren't preggers after all." She gently runs her finger down the bridge of Brittany's nose and pokes it.

"I know," Brittany says, relieved. "I wouldn't know what to do with the stork afterwards."

"Well there's more to making babies than that."

"Like what?"

Santana leans over and whispers at length in Brittany' ear. Brittany's eyes open wider and wider, then a look of terror overcomes her, as she exclaims, "No way!"

"It's true. That's how it happens," Santana says with conviction. "What's wrong?"

"Impossible," Brittany says, worried. "I've been with a college Navy guy before and there is no way that a bunch of sea men could even fit in there. And he was big enough."

Santana stares curiously at Brittany.

"Santana?" Brittany asks, as she moves a random hair that has strayed across Santana's cheek. "Do you miss being a Cheerio?"

"Yes and…no," Santana answers. "No, I don't miss it because Coach Lady-Man totally tortured us in order to win every trophy she hoards in her house. Remember that three-hour practice when she was cracking her whip on us extra harder than usual?"

"I still have the welt marks," Brittany empathizes.

"It was for nothing! I swear that hermaphrodite was on the rag. We weren't even preparing for Regionals or Nationals or anything important like that. By the end of it, I was ready to take off my arms and legs and trade them in for a set of new ones."

"I did that to my Barbie© once," Brittany says. "Now she's a quadriplegic."

"And I remember another time when we were actually practicing for Nationals and she threatened to make us hand wash her underwear if we didn't keep smiling like we were insane. My mouth was so overstretched at the end of practice, I felt like I had just given the world's longest bj."

"Ya, I hate that feeling," Brittany says as she twirls a lock of Santana's hair that errantly hangs alongside Santana's face, out of place and unruly. "I thought joining the Cheerios just meant that we could wear those cute little uniforms. I didn't know we actually had to work to keep on wearing them. But I like red, that's why I stayed. It's one of my favorite colors. My other favorite is vanilla and…sometimes butterscotch."

"Brittany, those are flavors," Santana corrects.

"Not if you wear them they're not."

"What I miss about being a Cheerio," Santana starts, then pauses to sigh. "Is that it was the only thing at McKinley that made me feel important; like I mattered when I showed up at school."

Brittany strokes Santana's cheek.

"And what I miss most of all," Santana says, swallowing apprehensively and lowering her eyes. "Seeing you at practice always reminded me of how we met."

Brittany lifts Santana's chin and looks into the deep, richness of her dark brown eyes. Then there is no more looking and no more talking, only feeling. There are only droplets of sparkle raining on their eyelids, happy snowflakes dancing on their skin, and pop rocks bursting in their heads. Only quiet butterflies, and little birds that barely peep and, hearts that do back flips, and lips that kiss tenderness into rainbows.


	2. Chapter 2

Santana has been waiting all day to do this. In fact when she saw Brittany at school earlier – before the pregnancy scare – Santana had wanted to plant a big one on her. Santana was so happy to see Brittany from down the hall that she imagined running up to her and kissing her on the mouth, right there, in front of everyone. She almost didn't care. But then she cared enough not to when she spotted her ex-Cheerio teammates coming down the hall from one direction and a pair of football jocks coming from another direction. She was only able to muster a steamy invitation to have Brittany come back to her place after school.

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><p>All the other times she had wanted to kiss Brittany at school, well, that's what the gum was for. She would just tear a chewed piece of it out of her mouth, or wait for Brittany to do the same, and just pop it in Brittany's mouth, or Brittany's into hers, sometimes before they even said hello. Santana could taste her; sweetness beyond the flavor of the gum, softened with her friend's "o<em>ral juice"<em>, Santana called it in her head. It was the closest she could get to actually swapping spit with Brittany in public. It is just the way Santana wanted it. _It's perfect, just like this, the way we are in front of everyone._ _Really! Look at us_, Santana would think, _we're cheerleaders, totally hot, have killer bodies, we're the prettiest girls at McKinley – which raises our social cred – we put out pretty frequently with guys – which raises our creds even higher. I could be as "friendly" as I want to be with her out here and no one would know any better. And no one needs to know the other stuff. It doesn't really mean anything anyway. _And then they would raise their pinkies, take hold of the other's, and continue on with their day. That was okay, it wasn't random gay or crazy lezbo or anything. That was good enough. It just meant that they were BFFs… and that's all.

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><p>Back in Santana's bedroom her wishes are coming true, away from the specter of gossip, name-calling, slushie facials, being a social outcast and the absolute horror of having to explain how she could be hot, pretty and stylish and a lesbian at the same time. Santana's parents aren't home, her room is still but her heart isn't and she really likes how Brittany feels in her mouth and against her skin. And Santana likes the way Brittany's kisses and touches remove all the lies, like the layers of their clothes that gradually fall to the floor. Lies that Santana shares about herself with guys; lies about her body and what she likes in it and lies about what she likes on it. Lies that have always helped her "get by" and "pass" for something other than what she feels inside. But when she is with Brittany, every inch of her bares the truth as naked as her body is against Brittany's right now.<p>

And for now Santana's bedroom is where her wishes will stay; in this room or in Brittany's room between her and this beautiful girl who knows she's not a cruel bitch and who knows that she isn't selfish and mean and spiteful and all the other vicious things Santana knows people say behind her back. But Brittany…Brittany just gets her. And that's all Santana wants is for someone to just get her.

Although Brittany has kissed other girls before in her quest to make out with everyone at McKinley, something happens in her stomach and in her heart when she is not with Santana. Brittany used to think it was gas and heartburn but those are supposed to feel bad, not make her all warm and fuzzy inside. And when they are doing it – "with all the wrong plumbing so it doesn't really count" – well Brittany feels like it should count for something especially since those feelings in her heart and stomach are occurring more and more often. It's the reason that keeps Brittany coming back to Santana's room whenever Santana asks to get their "snuggle on". Spending so much time with Santana is also the reason Brittany never seems to complete her homework assignments. Actually it's not, but she can't blame Lord Tubbington for stealing her homework anymore. He's a cat. He doesn't even have opposable thumbs. She checked. Actually, Brittany doesn't finish her assignments because she doesn't know what she's supposed to be doing at that place called "school". It used to be to go to Cheerios practice. But now she just shows up for The New Directions and Celibacy Club and follows Santana, or whoever is in front of her into one of those rooms called "class".

Back in Santana's room, it's also the reason Brittany feels so much more than just a part of Santana inside of her. It's a feeling Brittany looks forward to receiving when she anticipates their being together, yet it's different every time. Sometimes it feels rushed, like a race to break through the ribbon of an imaginary finish line and win the rewards of being breathless, sweaty, and spent. And sometimes it's so slow and delicious with Brittany savoring every moment of it until her body spontaneously – and her mind unwillingly – resoundingly declares that it's over. And Brittany gets all this from a beautiful girl who doesn't judge her or make fun of her; who always tells Brittany what to do "for her own good", when Brittany wants to do something else; and who tells Brittany what to say, when Brittany needs help justifying their friendship to other people. There are other times, when Santana says things to Brittany that make her feel mad, but Santana doesn't really mean it because she's also the same girl who stands up for Brittany when everyone else thinks she's stupid. Brittany's not stupid and Santana knows it; she just thinks differently than everyone else and sometimes gets confused. But Santana gets her. And that's all Brittany has ever wanted, is for someone to just get her.

They lay still, silent, and warm; Santana nuzzled in the shelter of Brittany's shoulder and neck, Brittany's arm wrapped around Santana's slender waist. They don't really talk at all afterwards, after they do it. Sometimes, when Santana wakes up from their after-snuggle, she cries, or covers her face with her hands, or starts slamming stuff. But they don't really talk.

"We should get matching bracelets," Brittany ventures. "Something with charms on them. Like my initials on yours and your initials on mine…whatever those letters are."

"Why the hell would we do that?" Santana asks.

"I don't know," Brittany hesitates, her enthusiasm waning. "I…I just thought it was good idea."

"The only reason I like you, Brittany, is because you don't have too many of those," Santana snaps. "Please keep it that way."

After a moment's silence, Santana pushes away from Brittany. She aggressively pulls on a sheet to wrap herself with as she angrily gets out of bed.

"Now you've gone and ruined everything," Santana says and stomps toward the bathroom leaving a cold, empty shadow of herself behind.


End file.
